


The Next Level

by pr_squared



Category: Patricia's Riding School
Genre: F/M, Pony Play, Woman on Top, ponyboy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:01:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25382017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr_squared/pseuds/pr_squared
Summary: Patricia acquires her string of ponyboys.The story sort of grew into the the tale of Courtney de Witter and her first pony, Rocket Man
Comments: 7
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have a fondness for ponyboy stories; the mutual but asymmetric affection between an equestrienne and her mount.  
> Alice Charlotte has two entertaining books "Patricia's Pony: a Cruel Equestrienne" and "Patricia's Riding School."  
> She describes the origin of Patricia's first three two-legged ponies but not the later three.  
> I presume to take advantage of her omission.  
> I read her books and felt a compulsion to fill in the blanks
> 
> I prefer ponies who run on two legs to those who crawl on hands and knees.  
> We differ in our ponies' harnessing equipment.

How did I acquire my ponies? Patricia reminisced. Trojan was her first. He had seen her train her four-legged equines and volunteered for a year of pony training for himself. He even paid for the privilege. She had worked him vigorously and he had risen bravely to her every challenge. After his year, he simply asked to stay. He had even begged. She had given in - reluctantly. He may have presumed that he’d be enjoying her bed as well as her care but Patricia had no appetite for intimate relations with livestock. Patricia chuckled. She really hadn’t asked him recently what he thought of his decision, five years earlier. He was her first and she owned him completely, even if she had never paid for him. Rosie teased that she was in love with him. Patricia was fond of him but she would sell him in a second were it to her advantage. If one cannot part with her possessions then they own her more than she owns them. 

Comet was also a volunteer – at the beginning. She still had four-legged equines then. His training had required so much of Patricia’s time and attention. He had made poor Trojan so jealous. Her whip delivered some compelling lessons for them both. Comet made slow but steady progress. By the end of his year, she had trained him fully to her high standards. He innocently expected to be freed but she had invested so much time and effort in his training and he was such a perfect pony. She just kept him. He rebelled ferociously but she broke him ruthlessly and bent him to her will. She found that a very special thrill. Now, he was Rosie Marcus’ favorite pony. 

Patricia began hosting guests and her business grew though slowly. Others shared her interest and Patricia needed another pony. She bought Tornado from a Japanese business woman. She had no idea why the woman chose to sell him as he seemed a perfectly serviceable pony, if not then quite trained to her high standards. He looked to be Australian but she hadn’t inquired too deeply into his background. The woman had seen her website and read between the lines. Patricia met them in Sidney and did her inspection. The price wasn’t too high. She had some trouble smuggling him out of the hotel, blindfolded and shackled, but he sat quietly beside her on the long ride to her farm, deep in the Outback. His gag prevented much conversation but he proved a good listener, she smiled to recall. He nodded his head to show his engagement but never interrupted. He never offered glib, unasked for advice. 

The gag blocked only verbal communication. He squirmed in his seat and pressed his thighs tightly together. Patricia pulled over and helped him out of the car. His wrists secured behind his back; he could do little to help himself. She opened his pants. Once on the farm, he would have no clothes. She took his cock in her hand and directed his stream safely away. Dr. Marcus would do his circumcision once they were home. 

Patricia now had three two-legged ponies now and sold off her four-legged equines. Lightening was her fourth. 

Patricia rode Trojan and Veronica Killock rode Storm, her eventual fifth pony. The ponies trotted over the woodland trail, bearing their burdens effortlessly. The women talked, easily guiding their well-trained mounts. Veronica asked, Patricia, how can you live out here, a woman alone, so far from civilization. Aren’t you afraid?”

“I’m too poor to rob,” Patricia laughed. And too far away from anyone or anything. She smiled. She had broken and trained a string of ponyboys. She was no longer quite so vulnerable to male bluster and threats. 

One night, her proximity detectors had awaken her. Something more than a dingo or kangaroo. She located the intruder on her CCTV and armed herself with her rifle and infrared glasses. Quietly, she tracked him to her stable. The man, tall and thin, looked around and stared into the dark. He saw nothing, and carefully opened the stable door. He crept inside the darkened barn. Silently, Patricia followed him.

He looked over the half-gate in the dim light and saw Comet sleeping in the straw. In shock, the man jumped back and turned. Comet was naked except for his tack, his bit, bridle, and harness. In truth, Patricia understood, an animal may be unclothed but no one really thinks of him as naked. Once upon a time, a man might intimidate a dozen adult women simply by threatening to expose his male paraphernalia. That time was safely in the past. Comet’s nose ring was clipped to a stay set securely in the wall. 

Patricia flipped on the lights, blinding the intruder. She put him down with a dart from her tranquilizer gun. He awoke hours later, stripped, harnessed and bitted. He had a gaunt look but would fill out better nutrition. He shouted his protest but the bit made his frantic noises totally unintelligible. He screamed until he exhausted himself. Dr. Marcus pronounced him healthy and free from STD’s after a shot of ceftriaxone and hefty dose of azithromycin. She fitted him with a nose ring like the other ponies. 

Patricia set about his training with her usual dedication. She had missed the special thrill of breaking a stubborn male. She looked forward eagerly to the hard-fought battle of wills and her ultimate victory.

Most men, whatever their bravado, have little appetite for pain. At some point, they decide to feign obedience to avoid her whip – their first surrender - that makes their subsequent submissions easier. They think that they have fooled her and quietly relish their small victories. However, she knows the ploy and training continues. She takes them to their limits and beyond – again and again. At first, they smugly obey because they choose to obey. In the end, they obey simply because she requires it of them. Their bodies respond to her commands, even before their conscious minds have processed them. At some point, they realize their total subjugation. Some accept their new state; some rebel wildly one last time. By then, most fear her displeasure even more than her lash. 

However, she had never encountered so intractable a male. He was inured to pain or seemed to enjoy the whip even more than she enjoyed wielding it. Dr. Marcus returned for his circumcision and Patricia shared her difficulties. Patricia was glad she had followed Dr. Marcus’ advice. She had had him gelded as well as circumcised. Now her Lightening was the gentlest of her ponies. He was her regular choice for the most timid novice riders. She wondered what they might think of his past as a vicious desperado.

Patricia felt the most ambivalence about Storm, her fifth two-legged pony. She was on the long ride home from town after an afternoon supply run. She had four well-trained and well-conditioned ponies in her stable and again, she missed the thrill of a new challenge. Her guests had increased in number and she could well use another pony. She saw him standing beside the road, hitchhiking from somewhere to somewhere. She had no idea. Anyway, she stopped to pick him up. He looked to be a fine candidate. She swung open the passenger’s side door. 

Eagerly, he climbed in. She felt his eyes on her; she wasn’t so bad herself, she chuckled.

‘Didn’t your mother warn you about getting into a car with a strange Sheila,” she teased. Patricia remembered his laugh.

“Well, it’s okay as long as you don’t try to bribe me with lollies,” he grinned pleasantly. He had a really great smile and seemed to be a really fine young man.

“I haven’t any candy but I live near here. I can offer you a dinner and place to spend the night. Not likely to hitch a ride after dark.” She had a stall just waiting for him to spend many nights.  
He told her his life story on the ride to the farm. He talked and talked. She listened quietly and formulated her plan. He ate heartily and availed himself a long shower with her hot water. 

It had been a full year now. He found little liking for her lash and carried his rider well. He still has a nice smile when he smiles around his bit. Why do people always presume that man is the treacherous perpetrator and woman his frightened victim?

Rocket was her newest pony. He really didn’t belong to Patricia like the others but she had trained him and still boards him at her stable. 

Daphne de Witter was a regular guest at the farm. Her daughter Courtney, a student at the University, had visited twice. She had the makings of a real equestrienne. Many young girls fear to employ their whips and spurs more than their mounts fear their biting touch. Courtney quickly overcame any such aversion. No mount of hers ever doubted who commanded and who obeyed. 

Courtney was an outstanding scholar and focused on her brilliant future in aeronautical engineering. Some day she would be a real rocket scientist. 

She had a sweet boyfriend, Mike, a strongly built, good-natured boy. Her friends envied her hot, seemingly devoted guy. He had such soft, gentle brown eyes. He kept pushing her to take their relationship to the “next level.” She was truly fond of him and she didn’t want to lose him but he was quickly becoming an annoying distraction. Finally, she seemed to relent. She invited him to Patricia’s farm for a visit and the opportunity to take their relationship to the next level, finally. Eagerly, he agreed.

Courtney explained things to him, thoroughly but gently. He would always be her boy, she reassured him. With his bit in place, he was unable to speak. He cried real tears when she left him the first time. 

Patricia trained him as requested and he thrived under her rigorous tutelage. Patricia asked Courtney to sell him several times. She offered an exceptionally good price but Courtney stubbornly refused. Patricia snorted at the girl’s inane sentimentality but gladly accepted her offer to allow Rocket’s use by her guests in exchange for his board. 

Now, perhaps once a month, Courtney may be seen at the farm. She always brings her Rocket a treat. After Patricia’s uninspired cookery, anything sweet or salty is treasured. She rides her Rocket and he carries her happily on his strong back. She is a demanding equestrienne and does not spare him her crop or spurs. They move as one around the barrels and through the pole bending course. She runs him to utter exhaustion and he has yet to fail her. Eventually, she wants him trained for the steeplechase. 

After a long day on the trails, she always sees to his grooming herself. She clips his nose ring to the upright and secures his ankles to stays set shoulder width in the floor. She removes his saddle and frees his right wrist from his harness. He lifts his right wrist to the crosspiece and she secures it. She frees his left wrist and secures it in turn. Then she removes his harness and runs her finger over the sweat-sticky skin over his spine from the base of his neck to his tailbone. She slaps his muscular buttock once and gives his exposed ball sac a firm squeeze to show both her undisputed dominance and her unquestioned affection. He enjoys the feel of her busy hands on his tired body. More often than not, she brings him to a messy orgasm. They had truly taken their relationship to the next level.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reader on Deviantart challenged me to detail Courtney and Mike's life together through Courtney's various life events.  
> Thought I'd give it a try.

Rocket Man aka Mike awoke in his stall, again. No, it wasn’t a dream or a nightmare. He rose to his feet with some grace despite the harness that secured his wrists to his collar, the result of long practice. He shook himself to shake off the damp straw that stuck to his bare skin. Four years had passed. 

He had to pee. His hands restrained; he could do no better than squat over the hole in the corner of his stall. Relieved, he stood at the half-gate of his stall and peered out at the wooden wall. The tether on his left ankle allowed him to go no further. From experience he knew that 10 stalls, side by side, lined the south side of the stable. Comet, Tornado, Lightening, Storm, and Red occupied five of the stalls. He occupied another. 

A man called Trojan just disappeared one day. Rocket had heard Patricia and Kristen talking. 

“Trojan has lost more than a step,” Kristen concluded sadly. “He almost collapsed under me.” Sadly, he had become a danger.

Patricia frowned but nodded her head in agreement. Trojan had served her long and well. He been her first and she held a special place for him in her heart. Sentimentality aside, if one can’t part with her possessions then they own her more than she owns them. 

One day, Trojan was gone. Had Patricia sold him? What was his new life like, Rocket wondered? His bit in place, he could ask no questions. 

The morning routine had already begun. The aroma of food or what at least passed for food was in the air,

The gate of the stall beside his opened. “Morning Storm!” It was Kristen, his younger tormentor. Patricia, his older tormentor was worse. 

“Kneel!” she barked. 

Rocket aka Mike’s time would come and it did. He knelt at her command. If he didn’t kneel, he wouldn’t be fed. She freed him from his bit and placed a bowl on a low table before him. With no alternative, he lowered his head and ate. Water was plentiful, but he was provided two meals a day and no more than 10 minutes to eat them. Kristen disappeared to tend to Storm and then returned. She wiped his mouth with a damp rag. Mornings, she clipped his beard and evenings, she brushed his teeth. The brush was shared by all the ponies. She replaced his bit, removed the bowl and low table, and locked him in his stall again. Red was next. 

Rocket waited. He had become quite accustomed to waiting, just as he had become accustomed to his bit, bridle, and harness. Some days, they trained him, working on his obedience and conditioning. Some days they let him outside to wander the paddock – seeking sun on chilly days and shade on sunny days. Red had an impressive red mane. With his pale skin, he often had some degree of sunburn. He saw the other two-legged ponies and searched their troubled faces. They were bitted like he and unable to speak. What passed through their tortured minds, he wondered? 

The others bore brands. They belonged to the stable. He belonged to Courtney. 

Some days he carried riders. Some were skilled and some were hopeless. Courtney was the best. Carrying a skilled rider under the open sky was as near as he came to freedom. He found no love for their crops and spurs.  
Some days, he just waited in his stall. The loneliness was soul crushing. He came to treasure any human contact, even if that human jabbed him with her spurs and lashed him with her crop and drove him well beyond exhaustion. He looked forward most to his days with Courtney.

One day, Kristen saddled him and led him from the stable. He saw Courtney speaking with Patricia. They laughed and chatted, excitedly. They fussed over Courtney’s hand. Courtney held her hand this way and that.  
“Rocket Man!” Courtney saw him and a smiled brightened her face. Like the sun emerging on a cloudy day, he smiled around his bit.

She climbed up into his saddle and everything seemed exactly right. She ran him over the scramble course, once at a leisurely pace and once at a run. They wove in and out between the poles and he cleared the hurdle easily. The circled they barrel and dashed back. Courtney shifted her weight deftly and they moved as one. 

She took him on the forest trails. She spoke to him as he ran at an easy pace. She talked of her work and her life away from the Valley. Lost in the rhythm of his stride, her words meant little and her references less but he was attuned to her mood. Was she pleased with him? Might he expect punishment? She seemed particularly happy today. Perhaps. he had contributed to her happiness? 

She let him squat and relieve himself. “Okay, Rocket Man, let’s see you take off,” she challenged. She jabbed him with her spurs and brought him to an all-out run. He rose to her taunt and ran. They were a mile from the stable. Laughing, she kept him on pace with her crop and pushed him to a sprint for the final quarter mile. 

Courtney was exhilarated. Rocket staggered back to the stable, drooling around his bit and dripping sweat. Chest heaving and breath burning in his throat, Courtney walked him until he regained his wind. She mounted him on the grooming stand, his nose ring clipped to the upright, his ankles to stays set shoulder-width in the floor, and his wrists secured outstretched on the crosspiece. Spread-eagle and exposed, he was ‘freed’ from his harness.  
Courtney ran her finger down the sweat-sticky skin over his spine from the base of his neck to his tailbone. She slapped his muscular buttock and gave his exposed ball sac a firm squeeze to show both her undisputed dominance and her unquestioned affection. The other ponies carried Patricia’s brand. Perhaps, she would mark her Rocket Man as her own. 

He closed his eyes and reveled in her attention. She touched him everywhere. He enjoyed the feel of her busy hands on his tired body and chuckled to remember that once he had had private parts. He was her two-legged pony but perhaps she was also his. She washed him, head to toe. 

“Hey, Courtney.” That was Kristen. “Let me see your ring.”

Courtney’s hands left his body. She held up her hand for Kristen’s inspection. 

Rocket heard the word ‘ring’ and suddenly, the word had meaning. He tried to turn his head but his nose ring held his face to the upright.

“I’m engaged,” Courtney gushed.

“Congratulations! Or is it best wishes?” 

“How about good luck? Planning a wedding is a tough job even for an aeronautical engineer,” Courtney sighed.

“Well. If you can send a woman to the moon and bring her safely home. I’ll think you’ll make adequate wedding planner.” 

“Space flight is centuries old straight-forward physics. A wedding is deciding which dear friend or close cousin to snub and who sits next to whom.” Both women laughed.

Rocket did not laugh as Courtney returned to her immediate task. She felt the not so subtle unease in his strong body. He tried to speak around his bit and only increasingly frantic, unintelligible grunts emerged. Rocket shuddered in his restraints. 

“Oh sweetie, I’m getting married but you’ll always be mine." 

Her life had reached a different stage in the last four years. She had graduated with honors with honors and established herself in her career. 

"Are you happy for me? Don't worry, I’ll keep my promise, Rocket Man. You'll always be mine.” She laid her right hand on the small of his back and gently gripped his sex in her left. 

She would make quite an impression if she rode Rocket Man down the aisle. She wrinkled her nose to recall his uncivilized bathroom habits. Perhaps, he might give her away. No, quite properly, he was certainly hers but she was not really his to give away. Where might she seat him at her reception, she mused? She imagined him sitting between Aunt Heather and Cousin Ava, naked except for his tack.  
Suddenly, the sturdy grooming stand creaked but held when he massively ejaculated. Tension fled and he hung limp in his restraints.  
“Better now?” Courtney grinned.


	3. Chapter 3

A stylish sports car threaded the long access road from the highway to the stable. Courtney had expensive tastes. After years of student penury, now she could indulge them. The stiff suspension did little to smooth out the bumps of the crude path. Much had changed in the five years since college. 

Emilia Sumner, tall, blonde with an athletic build sat beside her. Her pale blue eyes contrasted with Courtney’s deep brown eyes. They had been friends for years. Emilia knew Brad too and acknowledged that he was quite good looking in a masculine sort of way. She and Courtney had been more than friends. However, Courtney had chosen a more conventional life and married Brad. Their friendship had survived.

Courtney had told her about her hobby. Emilia, of course, hadn’t quite believed her – two-legged ponies. Their fried Mike was now her Rocket Man? Well, a day with Courtney had its attractions. She loved the equestrienne outfits, her riding breeches and her shiny new boots. She would see for herself. What might Brad, Courtney’s new husband, think of all this. Did this count as cheating? Well, he was on a fishing trip again. If things had been different, Courtney might have chosen her. 

The drive was long and they had stopped for a leisurely lunch. Emilia was puzzled when Courtney carefully collected the remnants of their meat pies. Courtney never allowed anyone to eat in her car. Emilia wondered just what she would do with them. They arrived late in the day but days were long in the summer and a good hour of light remained.

They went to their room and changed into their riding apparel. Emilia examined herself in the mirror. Her five feet three inches made her two inches taller than Courtney. Her eyes were a soft brown and her short cut hair brown beneath her riding helmet. She couldn’t help but admire herself in her form-fitting riding breeches. Courtney had dark hair and soft, brown eyes. The breeches did well for her pert bottom. 

Eagerly, Courtney led her right to the stable. She almost ran. The place smelled less fetid than Emilia feared. She saw stalls like in a horse stable. Each was gated with a closed half gate. The first stall was empty. A man stood at the second half gate. Emilia saw something equine about him. His hair was combed back into some sort of mane. A bridle with blinders encased his head. A heavy ring hung from his nasal septum. His bit distorted his facial features. He wore harness of sorts. A one-inch collar circled his neck. His wrists and upper arms were cuffed. His wrists were secured to his collar with about a foot of chain. A longer chain linked his upper arms behind his back, limiting mischief but allowing the back and forth motion necessary for locomotion and balance. 

“That’s Comet, Patricia’s second pony.” Courtney explained. “Hey Comet,” she offered without much of a response. Tornado slept in the straw in the next stall and Lightning in the next. Storm and Thunder, the newest pony, stood in the next stalls, chewed on their bits and stared silently at the women.

“That’s my Rocket Man,” Courtney gushed. “Hey, sweetie.” 

Rocket stood at his gate, tacked and saddled. He heard the women enter the stable and waited impatiently to see his Courtney.

“Is that your Mike? Really?” Emilia asked in disbelief. “Our Mike?” Mike stood six feet four inches tall and weighed something like two hundred -twenty pounds. He stood a full head taller than Courtney. His head was shaved on either side and his dark – almost black hair in the center swept back into a pony tail – what else? Except for the hair on his head, he was completely depilated. He looked as fit and trim as a man might be. He still had those large, gentle brown eyes. He looked good, really good, actually. Courtney’s Brad wasn’t too bad either but she had never seen him on display. Courtney had good taste in men. Emilia saw the saddle on Mike’s broad back.

“I call him Rocket Man now,” Courtney answered. 

Emilia looked him up and down. “He’s naked!” she exclaimed as if no one else was aware of his lack of clothes.

“Ponies don’t wear clothes, Emilia,” Courtney explained simply. 

Emilia shook her head and thought. He was a pony now and not a person. An animal may be unclothed but no one really thinks of him as naked. Yet in her eyes, though, the boy was naked. He didn’t look embarrassed at all, not in the slightest. “Well, if I looked as good as him, I’d never wear clothes either!” she teased, shaking her head. Her pendant earrings swung back and forth.

Courtney laughed. 

Emilia felt a dash of embarrassment but curiously, she didn’t feel at all intimidated. Once upon a time, a man might intimidate a dozen adult women simply by threatening to expose his male paraphernalia. That time was safely in the past. His male paraphernalia were on blatant display but Emilia sensed no threat or hint of danger. His flaccid cock and ripe ball sac signaled his vulnerability rather than his privilege. 

Rocket Man stood straight and tall while the women’s words swirled around him. He chewed on his bit anxiously and his eyes darted this way and that. His recent experiences made him skittish around unfamiliar people and situations. His unease grew. He look to Courtney for protection.

Courtney opened the half gate and freed him from the lead attached to his nose ring. A firm hand on his bridle, Courtney led Rocket Man into the yard. His bridle, blinders, and bit half hid and half distorted his facial features. A metal ring pierced his nose. He carried a leather saddle on his back. Emilia followed. 

“Kneel!”

The quiet authority in Courtney’s voice calmed his roiling confusion and he dropped promptly to his knees. Courtney stroked his face fondly. She took his head between her two hands and kissed his forehead. Suddenly, she remembered that Emilia stood beside her. “He’s my sweetie,” she confessed to her friend. She freed him from his bit fed him the messy remnants of their meat pies and he ate eagerly; his fat tongue swept the scraps from the greasy napkin in her hand. 

She replaced his bit. “Mount!” Courtney commanded. Rocket raised his left leg and planted his foot. 

Courtney stepped up on his brawny left thigh and swung into his saddle. She settled her feet in the stirrups. “Up!” 

Rocket stood.

When she was up in Rocket’s saddle, something always felt just right. She relished her mastery of the powerful creature. Rocket felt it too. Courtney stroked his cheek fondly. “Hey, boy,” she purred. “Glad to see me?”

Emilia looked up at her friend. Courtney held Rocket’s reins with one hand. Her thighs straddled his broad back. He had the strong legs and powerful buttocks needed in a good mount and the broad shoulders to carry his rider with ease. His male paraphernalia hung nakedly exposed between his brawny thighs. Emilia saw the crop hanging from Courtney’s belt and the stubby metal spurs on the heels of her boots. Courtney looked so good on her high perch – so confidant and in control. She made it all look so easy. 

“Watch us.” Courtney pointed to the scramble course on the infield – three poles, a hurdle, and a large barrel. “We’ve been working on this.” She made a clicking sound and Rocket approached the course at a walk. 

Emilia winced when Courtney’s spurs snapped into Rocket Man’s flanks. Rocket Man took off and crossed the starting line at an all-out run. He sprinted the first ten yards. Courtney guided him in and out between the three poles. She shifted her weight deftly and they ran as one. He timed his jump and cleared the hurdle easily without breaking stride. Practice and repetition had benefits. Courtney’s weight was nothing to him. His confidence soared. Rocket Man circled the barrel. He felt Courtney’s crop and tore back, cleared the hurdle cleanly, and wove in and out between the poles. He crossed the finish line at a gallop. Her run had been decent with no penalties. 

“Whoa.” Courtney pulled back on the reins and brought him to a walk. Rocket had covered about 100 yards in all. “Good run!” she purred and stoked his cheek. She turned and looked at her friend. “When I have the time, I’ll train him for the steeplechase.” The steeple chase was a two mile course with hurdles and water hazards. “ You want a try?” she asked breathlessly. 

“Not today,” Emilia answered. Courtney ran her finger behind Rocket’s ear and he seemed to enjoy her touch.

Kristen, Patricia’s helper, led Lightning from the stable, bridled and saddled. “Hey, Courtney. How’s married life?”

“Hey, Kristen!” Courtney called. “Meet my friend Emilia – a novice rider.”

“Hey,” Emilia respond, her uncertainty growing as Kristen neared leading a naked boy by his bridle. His bit and blinders twisted his facial features. He wore a security harness. “Not even a novice yet. I guess, I aspire to be a novice, I guess.” 

“Hey, Emilia – lovely earrings.” Kristen smiled.

“Thanks,” Emilia responded, a bit embarrassed. She watched wide-eyed when Lightning released a torrent of urine that pooled at his feet. She looked up to her friend Courtney, what?

Courtney smiled and shook her head. “What do you expect? He’s a pony, Emilia. Ponies don’t use the facilities.” 

Kristen later explained overcoming his innate aversion to relieving himself in public was a critical step in transforming a boy into a serviceable mount. She brought Lightning to the “mount” position and reached out to Emilia.

“Well. Courtney. How’s married life?” Kristen teased. “Doing any riding or are you being ridden for a change?”

The women laughed. Emilia shuddered to imagine a larger male lying on top of her and shoving himself into her most intimate places, his penis dripping piss and filth.

“Well, Emilia are you riding today?”

“How about tomorrow?” Emilia thought but said nothing. “How about the day after tomorrow? Or next month?” 

“Okay, Emilia, grab the pommel in your left hand and step up onto his thigh with your left foot. Yes - now swing our right leg over the saddle and plant your feet in the stirrups,” Kristen instructed,

Emilia swallowed hard. She didn’t want her friend to think her a wuss. She held the reins in her right, reached up and grabbed the pommel in her left hand. She stepped up on his brawny left thigh with her left foot and swung her right leg up over his saddle, expressing a heavy stream of inventive reservations. Courtney and Kristen were impressed with her verbal creativity but patiently encouraged her. This was the reason she had come with Courtney in the first place.

“Up!” Kristen backed away and Lightning rose to his feet. For a long second, it seemed as if Emilia might fall. She grabbed the pommel of the saddle to keep from tumbling off. Kristen was right behind and helped her get herself positioned securely in the saddle. Kristen adjusted the straps and Emilia jammed her tennis-shod feet into the stirrups. She looked down. She was so high up!

Lightning was an experienced mount and well used to novice riders. Their minimal demands appealed to his innate laziness and lucky for him, the stable served many novices.

Lightning just stood there. Emilia didn’t know what to do next – “Lightning, go!” she said in what she thought might be a strong authoritative voice. In reality, she squeaked. “Go, honey, go!” she tried again. “Whoa! No, that means stop. I mean - go!”

Courtney snorted. Patricia and her friend Rosie Marcus, who had come out to the yard after dinner, laughed out loud. “Girl, don’t argue with him, just kick him!”

Emilia hung on and looked at her in disbelief.

Kristen led them to the paddock and directed Lightning to walk around the enclosure in a circle. Slowly, Emilia became more comfortable.

“Ready to ride?” Kristen slapped Lightning on the rump and he was off with a start.

Emilia slide backwards. She grabbed the pommel for dear life with both hands but she did not fall. Emilia pulled herself forward. Lightning ran. Emilia’s look of consternation gradually transformed into a look of wild elation. “Faster, Kristen, faster!”

“Don’t ask me,” Kristen chuckled. “Ask him!” As she spoke, she lashed out with her whip and somewhere Lightning found his rarely called upon reservoir of energy. He shot ahead and Emilia whooped in glee.

Lightning’s innate laziness quickly returned and he slowed a bit once he thought he might get away with it and then slowed a bit more. Cunningly, he slowed only gradually hoping that he might escape unnoticed. Emilia sensed his trickery and kicked him hard. Even with just her tennis shoes, she brought him back to speed.

They circled the track again and again. Courtney led Rocket Man back to the stable and returned. Emilia was still circling the track. Both Emilia and Lightning were exhausted when Emilia brought him to a walk. He circled the track again and knelt on command. Emilia dismounted.

“I walk him ‘til them cools down,” Kristen offered generously. She held Lightning’s reins in her left. “You guys get a night cap. What time do you guys want to go out tomorrow?”

“In the afternoon,” suggested Courtney, looking regretfully at her ambivalent friend. “Emilia wants to sleep in, I guess.”

Emilia sighed deeply. She patted Lightning’s strong back and neck. “Thanks for the ride, Lightning. That was fun! Let’s go really early. Kristen, let me walk with you.”

The two boys stood side by side, Rocket Man and Lightning, mounted on the grooming frames. Not men, rather two-legged ponies, Emilia remembered, as she watched Courtney groom her Rocket Man. Courtney spoke to him in soothing tones. Her hands went everywhere. 

Emilia studied her Lightning. He hung spread eagle and exposed. Like all the ponies, he had been totally depilated, down the last few hairs around his anus. His nose was clipped to the upright, his ankles secured to stays set shoulder width in the floor, and his arms outstretched on the cross piece. She had just met him the day before but she already felt a touch of affection. He had given her a great ride. She didn’t have Courtney’s skill – yet - but she had shared Courtney’s pleasure in her mastery of the large powerful creature.

Like Rocket Man, Lightning had the strong legs and buttocks that one might expect from a two-legged pony. His male paraphernalia were on display between his brawny thighs. Where Rocket Man’s ball sac was plump and round, Lightning’s appeared shrunken. Puzzled, Emilia looked to her friend.

Courtney laughed. “Lightning’s a gelding,” she explained. She squeezed Rocket Man’s bulging scrotum. 

No understanding dawned on Emilia’s face. 

“A gelding? Patricia took his balls. Intact males are notoriously short tempered, lazy and prone to violence. Lightning’s a real sweetie now. Once, Lightning was a hardened criminal. Believe it or not!” Geldings were easier to manage in the stable. Some women liked the smooth look with all the male paraphernalia removed. However, elite equestriennes usually still prefer intact ponies.

Emilia pointed to the well-healed brand on Lightning’s ass. 

“That’s Patricia’s brand. Lightning belongs to Patricia.”

Emilia looked at Rocket Man. His brand was different.

“That’s my brand,” Courtney explained. Rocket Man belongs to me.” She traced her well-healed mark on his muscular buttock,

“Did it hurt?”

“Didn’t hurt me a bit. Took some doing to get a clean mark. He squirmed.” Courtney chuckled.

Emilia shook her head. “Hurt him?”

“Oh, Rocket Man. He screamed a bit when the iron touched his skin but I think he likes it now.” Everyone knew that adult males don’t feel pain like women – testosterone poisoning. “Knows he’s owned – no questions – and knows that I own him.” She slapped his buttock fondly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revised

Courtney invited her and Emilia couldn’t say no. Courtney was pregnant and Brad was on another fishing weekend or was it a hunting weekend this time?

Emilia had visited the stable twice on her own and was eager for an excuse to visit again. She loved the outfits – the shiny leather boots and the riding breeches. She felt so good in the saddle – confident and proud of her mastery of her powerful two-legged pony. Patricia’s ponies were well-conditioned and thoroughly trained. She had less enthusiasm for her crop and spurs but she understood the necessity that her naughty pony understood that she commanded and he obeyed though she doubted that she would be able to break a man herself.

Kristen had laughed at her. “No one can break a true man,” she confessed. “Many men have a pony inside, though, and we just help him to come out. Think of us as more as midwives.”

Lightning was already gone on her last visit – he was almost 40 and his old bones couldn’t carry a rider safely. Men lose their legs first. Emily had ridden the well-behaved Thunder, the youngest gelding in the stable. His red mane – you had to call it – was impressive. She wondered whether she was ready for an intact male. She wondered if Courtney would let her ride her Rocket Man.

Courtney spoke little on the long drive to the stable. She seemed preoccupied and deep in thought.

“Do you think that you could break a man, Courtney, yourself,” Emilia asked? “Train him to be your pony?” Patricia and Kristen had broken Courtney’s Rocket Man. 

Courtney gripped the steering wheel tightly and stared ahead. She said nothing.

Well, she’s pregnant, Emilia allowed and smiled. Pregnancy had agreed with her friend in general.

Kristen greeted them warmly and led them to the stables. “Lot of changes around here. We still have 6 ponies, Comet, Rocket, Storm, Thunder, Cyclone, and Twister. Still working a bit on Twister. Patricia has high standards – very high standards. We’ll break the bugger, just takes time. No man can resist Patricia’s charm or her whip.” The women laughed. No one spoke of them but Trojan, Lightning and Tornado were gone. 

Emilia greeted Thunder. “Remember me?” She smiled to recall her last visit. He had carried her well, though she was larger than the petite Courtney, and followed her direction promptly. Mane red and skin pale, Thunder stared back at her over the half-gate of his stall and chewed on his bit impassively.

Rocket Man was already saddled. Courtney greeted him fondly and offered him a treat. He was eager to see her as always. He lowered his head and nuzzled with her. Courtney let him press his head against her engorged breasts for a moment and laughing, pushed him away. 

Kristen offered to let Emilia ride Cyclone, an intact male. 

Emilia finally met Dr. Rosie Marcus who saw to the ponies’ health. Courtney rode her Rocket Man, of course. Dr. Marcus rode Comet and Kristen rode Storm. Emilia worked up her courage and rode Cyclone, an intact male, on the long trail ride. They rode in a line and played a game. Kristen blew her whistle and the trailing pony raced to the front. 

At the start, Kristen led the pack. Courtney followed her, Emilia followed Courtney and Rosie trailed. Kristen blew her whistle and Rosie and Comet ran to the front. A minute or two later, Kristen blew her whistle again. Courtney and Rocket Man were next. Under Courtney’s crop and spurs, he seemed to blast off, true to his name. The whistle sounded again. Emilia guided Cyclone to her right and urged him forward. He raced ahead and drew even with Rocket Man.

Rocket Man sped up to fend off Cyclone’s challenge and Courtney just let him. She turned and made a face at her friend Emilia. Finally, Courtney pulled Rocket Man back, only after she had had proved that Cyclone had passed her only because she allowed it.

Cyclone slipped in front. “It’s only a game,” Kristen called as Emilia pulled ahead and slipped back into line. Emilia looked at the trail ahead. She jabbed Cyclone with her spurs to keep him at pace. She felt the power of the beast under her saddle and savored her mastery. She just liked running in front. 

Kristen blew her whistle again and Storm raced to the front. The boy seemed eager. Kristen gave him his head. He required no more than a touch of her spurs. He reveled in his strength. Patricia had trained him well.  
The ride continued – Kristin on Storm, Emilia on Cyclone, Courtney on Rocket Man, and Rosie on Comet. Emilia fondly stroked Cyclone’s sweat-sticky skin. The pace was brisk but not exhausting.

K

risten’s whistle sounded again. Emilia glanced back and saw Rosie pulled Comet from the line. Emilia turned forward again and guided her mount Cyclone to follow Courtney and Rocket Man. A minute passed. Emilia looked back for Rosie and Comet. 

Comet moved forward only slowly. Emilia held Cyclone back to let him pass. 

Rosie whispered encouragements. When that failed, she lashed Comet vigorously. His eyes were wide with terror. He drooled around his bit. His legs churned but he seemed to move in slow motion. Suddenly, he went down.  
Emilia saw it happen. “Hey Kristen, stop! Rosie’s down – Comet crashed.” Emilia brought her mount to a halt. 

Kristen dismounted and ordered Storm to his knees. She helped Rosie to her feet. She was uninjured. Comet was a mess. He lay on the ground moaning. His iron shod legs flailed. 

Rosie stood hands on hips, shaking her head sadly. “Their legs go first.” Comet had been her favorite pony. 

Kristen took charge. “Rosie, stay with him. Watch out for those kicking hooves. Let’s ride back to the stable and get help.” 

Patricia brought the ATV from the garage. She towed a flat-bed trailer. Kristen rode Storm and they went back to retrieve Rosie and Comet.

Emilia and Courtney took turns running the scramble course. Emilia watched how Courtney shifted her weight and tried to do the same. 

Courtney groomed Rocket Man. Emilia groomed Cyclone. Cyclone winced when Emilia touched the bruises her spurs had left in in his flank. “Sorry, baby. I’m sorry.” She apologized and then laughed at herself for apologizing. She felt really great. 

Patricia, Kristen and Rosie returned. 

“How’s Comet” Emilia asked eagerly. 

Rosie made a wry face. “He’s not in pain anymore. I just hurt and I’ll hurt worse in the morning when the adrenaline wears off. Their legs go first.” She shook her head sadly. “ I should have seen the signs. Maybe I saw them and just closed my damned eyes. You know, you hope the day will never come.”

Except for poor Comet, Emilia had had a great day. She had ridden Cyclone, an intact male. The trail ride to the lake had been beautiful. On their return, she had ridden the scramble course with unexpected skill. 

Her soapy hands massaged Cyclone’s strong body. Cyclone sighed at her touch. She traced the well-healed brand on his muscular buttock. She ran her finger down his crack between his brawny buttocks. Like all the ponies in the stable, he had been thoroughly depilated. On a mischievous whim, she jammed her soapy finger up his tight little ass. Poor Cyclone screamed around his bit and pulled violently against his restraints. The grooming stand groaned but held. Emilia savored her mastery of her powerful two-legged pony. Grinning, she looked over to her friend Courtney.

Courtney appeared to share none of her elation. Courtney was going at her Rocket Man with a stiff brush. She was leaving red marks on his bare skin. He was trembling in his restraints. “Courtney, is everything okay – problems with your pregnancy?”

Courtney looked embarrassed – an unusual look for her. “Got back from my business trip to Perth. Found this under my bed.” She reached into her pocket and retrieved a single pendant earring. “Not one of mine!”

By reflex, Emilia check her earrings. Both in place. Emilia recognized the earring immediately and thought of its partner back home. Well, all's far in war and love. She steeled her resolved and shook her head doubtfully. “Asshole Brad!” 

Courtney actually smiled. It's significance seemed clear to Courtney at least. “Don’t be so hard on assholes. Assholes serve an important physiological purpose – Brad on the other hand?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revised

Rocket Man stared over the half-door of his stall. Something like ten years had passed since his arrival at the stable. 

The routine in the stable never changed. The stable housed six two-legged ponies. They ate twice a day. In the morning, Patricia or Kristin puts out his bowl and rouses Storm. She removes his bit. Harnessed and hobbled, he kneels and eats his slop with real gusto. She knows exactly what goes into their slop; she prepares it herself daily and would never eat it herself. Her ponies had learned that she allowed them no more than 10 minutes to eat. Somehow they were always hungry. If they dawdled, she just took their uneaten bowls away. 

Rocket Man was next. While Rocket Man ate, she clipped Storm’s beard mornings and brushed his teeth evenings She replaced Storm’s bit and refilled Storm’s bowl for Thunder. She set Thunder up. While he ate, attended to Rocket Man. She refilled Rocket Man’s bowl for Cyclone and so on. Feeding six ponies required just over an hour, twice a day . Two bowls and one tooth brush sufficed for the stable.

When not under saddle, the ponies, bitted and harnessed, might enjoy the large paddock when weather allowed – competing for sunny spots on chilly days and shady spots on sunny days. Water was always plentiful.

Guests could ride any pony they chose. Novices might ride in the paddock only. She had set up barrel racing and pole-bending courses. More experienced riders might take their mounts on the forest trails. She preferred when they rode in groups so that she or Kristen might accompany them. 

Rocket Man had little idea of the exact day but Courtney usually came on weekends. Often, she visited with her friend Emilia. Some days. she came by herself. Always, she would reassure him, “You belong to me, sweetie.”

Emilia had visited the stable several times on her own. She always brought him a greeting from Courtney. She had tried all the ponies in the stable and Rocket Man had carried her on several occasions. Her skills as a rider had increased markedly. She always ended his grooming with a special treat. Courtney was more parsimonious. After long hours alone in his stall or wandering the paddock, harnessed and hobbled, carrying a skilled rider under the open sky was as near as he came to freedom.

He had carried them all, Patricia and Kristen of course, and Rosie the doctor. Guests arrived Tuesday afternoons and departed Thursday evening. A second batch arrive on Friday evening and departed Sunday evening. He knew the names of a few regulars, Mica Artois, Lindsay Titmuss, and Veronica Killock. He met Daphne de Witter, Courtney’s mother – sort of. A woman didn’t often introduce herself to livestock.

Much had passed before his eyes. Trojan, Lightning, Tornado, and Comet had disappeared. Unhappy new men took their places. He knew them by their pony names Thunder, Cyclone, Twister, and Typhoon. They must have had other names once as he had. He watched them undergo Patricia and Kristen’s vigorous training. He watched them brooding in their stalls, likely dreaming of their bloody revenge or plotting their escapes. He tossed his head and snorted in derision. 

He wished he might explain things to them and save them so much suffering. His bit, however, prevented speech and he doubted they would believe what he told them anyway. He watched each succumb, one by one, to Patricia’s charm and whip, Thunder, Cyclone, Twister, and Typhoon. Compared to him, they all were young, eighteen or nineteen years old. He had been young once too. They all carried the stable brand. Only Rocket Man carried Courtney’s mark.

Thunder had fought them the hardest. He had tried to spit out his bit and seemed to enjoy Patricia’s whip. He angered easily. In the end, Dr. Marcus had pierced his tongue and gelded him. His tongue was pulled forward and clipped to his bridle. In the end, he proved himself a quite serviceable pony. He looked grotesque, though, with his tongue protruding from his always half-open mouth. He might have saved himself much unnecessary unhappiness.

A new boy – a man – arrived in the stable. He was older than most two-legged ponies in training. Unexpectedly, Courtney visited the stable daily, on weekdays too. She just passed by Rocket Man’s stall and checked on the new pony to Rocket Man’s annoyance.

It took the three of them, Courtney, Patricia, and Kristen to mount the new pony on the grooming stand. Once he was secure, Patricia just handed Courtney the whip. Courtney whipped him and he screamed through this bit. He pulled against his restraints. The stand groaned but the restraints held. The beating continued. Finally, Courtney stopped and Rocket thought she was done. Kristen passed out some beers and the women drank and chatted.

The man hung on the stand sobbing. Courtney finished her beer and took back the whip. “Thirsty work!” she quipped and began the beating again. The shrieks became groans and whimpers. They left him hanging on the grooming stand.

His training proceeded only slowly. Courtney came again and stayed for an entire week. She worked on the new pony exclusively. Rocket Man felt utterly abandoned. Dr. Marcus came as she usually did with the most intractable ponies. She circumcised him and fitted him with a nose ring. Rocket Man thought she would geld him but she did not. Courtney went home for week and his training continued. 

Rocket Man, carrying a rider around the paddock, saw him run on the lunging rope. His bare body was covered his lash marks in various stages in healing. 

Courtney returned again and worked on the new pony. She barely waved at Rocket Man in passing. Another week went by and another. Some days she greeted him and others, she just walked by. Rocket Man carried his riders as expected but worried that that Courtney had forgotten him. He brooded that he had somehow disappointed her. 

Rocket Man was glad to carry Emilia but he hated all the attention Courtney lavished on the new pony. He was Courtney’s pony. He saw Courtney in the paddock mounted on the new pony. Jealously seethed.

“Patricia and Kristen broke him,” Courtney allowed. “Patience and persistence. He was a tough nut to crack! Obedience is okay but we have much conditioning yet to do. Hi. Rocket Man,” she finally acknowledged his presence. “Miss me?” she teased.

Rocket Man missed her of course but with his bit, he could say nothing. His eyes showed his passion.

Emilia studied Courtney’s new mount. His sex hung limply between his thighs. Curiously, they had gelded him only after they broke him. He shrieked enough when Courtney branded him. “I want to ride him. Thought you were going to take his cock and balls.” Some women liked the smooth look. “I’d like to see how he’d look with that smooth look?”

Courtney shook her head. “Rosie explained that that would be a major surgery – skin grafts - long convalescence. Just too much bother.” 

“What will you call him,” Emilia asked? Patricia’s ponies had weather names like Thunder, Lightning, Twister, and Cyclone. 

Courtney smiled broadly. “I’ll call him, Brad! How do you like that?”

Emilia laughed. “Well, at least he won’t have to learn a new name.”

Rocket Man was despondent. Apparently, Courtney had a new pony. He was Courtney’s pony.

Later, Courtney came to his stall. “HI, Rocket Man. Hi, sweetie.” she smiled. “How’s my boy?”

He felt conflicted but the warmth of Courtney’s smile lifted his sadness.

She pulled him toward her with his bridle and kissed him on the forehead. She saddled him and rode him into the yard. 

He savored her nearness and the touch of her hand. 

Rocket Man saw Kristen working with the new pony, Brad, on the lunge line. Her whip snapped repeatedly keeping him at speed. The two-legged pony struggled to keep the pace. 

Rocket Man saw something else. The new pony’s brand had healed and he carried the stable’s mark. Only Rocket Man carried Courtney’s brand. He carried Courtney in his saddle and he knew that he was still Courtney’s pony.

Emilia took Brad on the trail. He recognized her and somehow seemed happy to see her. “Hi Brad, sweetie. You remember me!” She certainly remembered him. She saw the bright hope awaken in his brown eyes. He always had attractive eyes. She smiled. “Do you expect me to free you – to save you from all this? Really?”

She climbed in his saddle, pleased with her new skills and guided him from the yard. He proved a serviceable pony. He responded promptly to his reins and her spurs. Patricia was an effective trainer. He trotted along at a comfortable pace. She ran her finger behind his ear and she seemed to enjoyed her touch. “You know you’re a pony now and you’ll always be a pony.”

Brad made some sort of mournful noise around his bit.

“Come on now,” she chided him. “I win, you lose. Courtney is mine now. I am hers!”

Emilia returned him for grooming. Exhausted, Brad hung spread eagle on the grooming stand. His nose ring was clipped to the upright. His ankles were fastened to stays set securely in the floor. His wrists were restrained outstretched on the cross piece. 

Meredith, Kristen’s new helper, assisted her. “How’d he do today?” she asked.

I had done well enough, Brad thought. He was glad for the rest.

“His training is fine, but his conditioning still needs work,” Emilia told her. 

“Well,” Meredith agreed and smiled wryly. “Conditioning is a challenge once they’re over thirty. That’s why we usually work with younger boys. He was a special favor for your Courtney.” 

And for me, Emilia thought but said nothing. “Wasn’t much as a husband either, I’m told.” Both women laughed. “A little better as a pony.” Emilia ran her soapy hand down his butt crack. His body had been completely depilated, even to the last few hairs around his anus. Grooming was easier for geldings. She jammed her slippery thumb up his anus.

He pulled against his restraints and screamed into his bit. The restraints held. Emilia just waited. 

Emilia flicked his empty ball sac with her finger and grasped his flaccid cock in her hand. “I hoped you guys would trim his unnecessary bits." Once he had relaxed, She removed her invading hand.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little self plagararism.

Rocket Man stood at the start of the pole bending course. Courtney sat in his saddle and studied the course. Six poles stood in a straight line, 21 feet apart. He had run the course a hundred times. Courtney laughed and closed his blinders. All was black. That was different. He shook his head in vain. He could not dislodge the blinders. He could see absolutely nothing. 

Courtney sensed his anxiety. Her hand stroked his neck gently. “Easy boy, easy,” she whispered. “We’ll do this together.” Her hand stroked his neck and comforted him.

Courtney’s spurs jabbed his flanks sharply and he exploded into motion. He had done this countless times before. He dashed the forty yards. Courtney let him feel her crop just once. The pressure of her right knee and her firm pull on his reins guided him to his right. He rounded pole 6. Her weight shifted. The pressure of her left knee and her pull on his reins guided him back to his left. He rounded pole 5. Rocket Man’s body remembered the rhythm – right and left, every so many strides. The pressure of Courtney’s right knee and her firm pull on his reins guided him to his right again. He rounded pole 4. His speed increased with his confidence. The pressure of her left knee and her firm pull on his reins guided him to his left. He rounded pole 3. The pressure of her right knee and her firm pull on his reins guided him to his right. He rounded pole 1. The pressure of her left knee and her firm pull on his reins guided him to his left again He circled around and cleared pole 1 on his left. In and out, he passed between the poles again and finally circled pole 6 on his right. He turned back toward the finish line and felt Courtney’s crop three times as he sprinted to the finish. Courtney seemed very pleased with him. He treasured her regard.

Later, Rocket Man had carried Harper, Courtney’s three-year old daughter around the paddock with Courtney’s firm hand on his bridle. The little girl had been frightened at first. Rocket Man was so big and strange. 

She was so high up and she was afraid at first. Gradually, she forgot her fear and enjoyed the ride. At the end, Courtney lifted her from the saddle and Harper had hugged Rocket Man’s brawny leg. She looked up. Rocket Man towered above her. Soddenly she jumped back and pointed to his penis. “Why does he have a tail – in front?” she asked. 

“Don’t really know.” Courtney laughed. 

Two year-olds say ‘no.’ Three year-olds start asking ‘why’ and their mothers often wish they would just say’no.’ Much about this world that Harper didn’t understand and the list kept getting longer.

Courtney and Emilia rode up to Red Lake. In the autumn, the fiery red leaves of the surrounding oaks gave the lake its red cast and its name. Emilia looked good on her Jim Dandy. He was fully eighteen, Patricia had promised. With his bit in place, he couldn’t contradict her He had the size and build to make a fine pony. With time, he would add muscle. 

Harper had stayed behind to play with Kristen’s daughter, Mackenzie, and Emilia’s one-year old daughter, Olivia.

Courtney on Rocket Man and Emilia on Jim Dandy trotted side by side at an easy pace. 

Rocket Man heard the sound Jim Dandy’s breathing and the regular thumps of his hooved feet. He felt the warmth of Jim Dandy’s body but his blinders and check reins limited his vision to the trail directly ahead.

The women chatted. Rocket Man enjoyed the sound of their voices. He had been at the stable for something like ten years now. He was aware of his Courtney in his saddle and her firm hand on his reins. Her weight was nothing to him. He felt the warm sun on his bare skin and savored Courtney’s nearness. Her weight was nothing to him. He ran and he lost himself in the rhythm of his stride. Their conversation was background music. Their words meant little and their references less. His inner voice faded. He was at peace.

Bright sunshine illuminated the brilliant afternoon. The lazy ride to Red Lake had been pleasant. The women had tied up their mounts and gone for a swim. Rocket Man and Jim Dandy stood saddled in the shade, hobbled and securely tethered to sturdy trees, a safe distance apart, a way up from the narrow beach. Jealousy was rampant in the stable and fights between intact males were not uncommon. 

Courtney and Emilia cavorted naked in the crystal-clear water. Once, a woman’s female parts were termed her shame. Now the wellsprings of pleasure and life were understood to be her glory. Once male genitals symbolized male power and prerogatives. A lone male could intimidate a dozen women simply by threatening to expose his paraphernalia. Now that time was safely in the past and male genitals were ineluctable proof of male vulnerability and kinship with the bestial. Once, women cowered in fear of male violence. Now, women feared mostly their own caustic self-criticism and the unspoken judgement of others.

Rocket Man strained to see them with little success, restrained by his blinders and check reins. However, exposure in front of an animal held no risk of embarrassment.

“Last one to the old oak is a stinky rotten egg!” Courtney taunted and plowed through the waist deep water, laughing. She lifted her knees high as she ran. 

Grinning, Emilia screamed her defiance and charged after her friend, water dripping from her naked body. “To the old oak and back! And you’re the rotten egg!” The water streamed from her body as she emerged from the neck-deep water. The bottom was slippery and her footing was precarious as she charged up the bank. The water formed droplets in the neatly trimmed bush that crowned her sex.

Rocket Man heard the noise and tried to turn toward the commotion. A short chain hobbled his ankles. His lead was tied to a sturdy tree branch and he could not turn his head far enough to see very much. He could turn only so far to see Jim Dandy standing hobbled beside him. He also had heard the dare. Rocket Man pulled against his reins and only then he saw Emilia and then his mistress, Courtney, dash up of the bank and sprint toward him. Both were stark naked. Their wet hair, blonde and brunette, lay plastered to their laughing faces. Water ran from their dripping, very female bodies. 

Once, a woman’s nakedness was termed her shame. 

Emilia was the larger of the two women, athletically built and blonde. The sun had bleached the hair on her hair a shade or two lighter. Blonde also, but a shade darker, was the patch of golden hair between her thighs. 

Courtney was dark and petite. Her small, wiry frame could scarcely contain her immense will. Their round breasts jiggled when they ran. Emilia’s breasts were larger than Courtney’s. Their shapely legs devoured the distance, but Emilia’s height and longer stride gave her an initial advantage.

Emilia reached her Jim Dandy first. In a flash, she freed from him from his hobble. Holding his lead, Emilia pulled stepped up on his stirrup and sat naked in his saddle. “Go!” Emilia called first and snapped her bare heels into Jim Dandy’s flanks. Her one step head start and her taller height had stood her in good stead. 

A few seconds later, Courtney knelt before Rocket Man and worked to free him from his hobble. Her bare back, cold and wet, pressed against his muscular thighs. Rocket Man looked down and the rounded line of her heart-shaped buttocks made him tremble. She was so far beyond him, yet he ached terribly for her.

“Mount!” Courtney followed urgently.

His ankles free, Rocket Man knelt. His left knee touched the ground.

Courtney grabbed a hold on his bridle, stepped up on his brawny right thigh, and swung her left leg over his saddle. The bare smooth skin of her toned thighs pressed cold and wet against his flanks. Her dense thatch of pubic hair scratched the back of his neck. “Up! Up, you motherless bastard!” she yelled fiercely, and then kicked him as hard as she might with the bare heels of her small feet. “Run!” she barked. 

Rocket Man rose to his feet gracefully and powerfully. He barely felt Courtney’s bare heels when she kicked but he understood her urgency. He loved to run and he loved to please his mistress. Nothing in the world mattered to him as much as Courtney’s praise.

Rocket Man ran, though without her spurs or even her hard-heeled boots, he hardly felt her kicks. He ran and Jim Dandy ran a few steps ahead him with Emilia up on his broad, strong back. Their fine riding leathers, boots, crops, and spurs lay forgotten on the beach.

Courtney grabbed hold of Rocket Man’s reins. An experienced rider, she kept her seat securely and rose and shifted her weight with his powerful strides. 

Rocket Man just ran. In the corner of his eye, he could see her rounded breasts jiggle with his strides. His skin grew hot and slick with perspiration. 

Lacking crop or spurs, Courtney hunched forward and urged Rocket Man to greater and greater speed. Her hot breath seared his ear as she urged him hoarsely to ever-greater speed. 

Rocket Man ran. The familiar floral scent of Courtney’s soap and perfume filled his head with her ineluctably feminine essence. Her breasts were soft against his cheek. Her nipples and areola were prominent and dark and begged for his lips.

Rocket Man ran. He had given his life and strength to Courtney’s service. He held nothing back. Her naked body pressed against him. The coarse thatch dark hair that concealed her sex scratched against his sweat-slick skin.

Jim Dandy ran a few paces ahead, matching him stride for stride. His mistress demanded speed and he would not give up so easily.

Courtney’s sex was hot against Rocket Man’s neck. The wetness at this point of contact increased and dribbled down Rocket Man’s muscular back. Courtney sighed aloud and pressed herself yet more firmly against him. Rocket Man ran. A new element now spiced the clean scent of Courtney’s perfume. 

The old oak neared.

Emilia and Jim Dandy reached the old oak first. Rocket Man cleared the old oak a stride behind and Courtney yanked hard on his left rein, bringing him smartly around the tree. Courtney ducked quickly to avoid a low hanging branch as she cut well inside of the taller Emilia and Jim Dandy.

They turned back to the lake and Rocket Man now had the lead. The promise of victory gave him added strength. Courtney’s familiar weight was no burden. Rocket Man lost himself in his motion as his powerful legs devoured the turf. His great chest rose and fell as he breathed deeply. The rhythmic pressure on Rocket Man’s neck began once again. Her graceful legs gripped him ever more tightly, squeezing and releasing. The wetness on his back became more pronounced. Courtney’s verbal encouragements ceased. Her breathing became hoarse and her movements became more urgent and erratic. Her scent betrayed her growing arousal.

The lake came into view. Rocket Man’s long stride quickly devoured the distance. Jim Dandy ran valiantly. Breaths came with more difficulty now. Emilia, like Courtney, had neither lash nor spur and still Jim Dandy gave her all his strength. He trailed now by two full paces. He wanted to win. He sensed his mistress’ desire to win and did not want to disappoint her.

Suddenly, Courtney jerked and groaned as an orgasm took her. Inadvertently, she pulled back hard his reins, bringing Rocket Man to an abrupt stop right on the bank. Emilia and Jim Dandy charged past them into the lake. Greedy for pleasure, Courtney pressed herself hard against Rocket Man, suddenly oblivious to the race and everything else. She trembled visibly as a series of aftershocks gripped her. When she finally quieted, she was as breathless as her mount.

Rocket Man was still breathing hard when Courtney caught her breath. She twirled the hairs of his mane affectionately. “Emilia, we won!”

Emilia looked up from the water and frowned. “Sorry, you didn’t win. The race was to the oak and back – back into the water where we started! Jim Dandy and I won! You stopped too damned soon.”

Courtney, now fully recovered, feigned outrage. “You cheater! Chicken fight!” She kicked Rocket Man hard and urged him into the water. Her small heels did no damage to the large and powerful male. However, he knew her intent and charged down into the water.

Emilia turned Jim Dandy sharply to face her assailant. 

The cold water was a shock on Rocket Man’s sweating body as he crashed into the lake but the cold was refreshing despite the chill. He carried Courtney deeper into the water, careful to keep his footing on the slippery bottom. The water was quickly chest high. He and Jim Dandy collided. Jim Dandy almost fell but recovered awkwardly while Courtney and Emilia grappled, laughing, on the sturdy shoulders of their large mounts. The women locked hands and tried to shove, pull, or twist each other from their seats, grunting with exertion and laughing at their unladylike laughter and deportment. Everyone was soon soaked. The mounts’ backs were wet and slick. Without proper stirrups, the riders’ perches were precarious.

Emilia’s greater height gave her better leverage and in time her advantage told. Courtney was wrenched from her seat and slid helplessly into the water. Desperately, she held on to Rocket Man’s reins and pulled. 

Rocket Man fell and scrambled to regain his feet.

Courtney hit the water, laughing and sputtering. She swam a few strokes and brought herself to Rocket Man’s side. Deftly, she clambered back in his saddle, finding a foothold for her petite foot at the base of his cock.

Emilia prepared a fresh encounter. Courtney waved her off, laughing. “Uncle! I give. Let’s do something else.”

Emilia led Rocket Man and Jim Dandy from the lake and secured their reins to tow trees a safe 10 feet apart. The hobbles were replaced. From the corner of his eye, Rocket Man saw Courtney spread a blanket on the grass just out of Rocket Man’s sight. Once Jim Dandy was secured, Emilia joined Courtney on the blanket. After the chill of the river, the warm afternoon sunshine was an unalloyed pleasure.

“Courtney, it’s really been a brilliant day,” Emilia said.

“You make all my days brilliant, my love,” said Courtney.

Rocket Man heard no further words exchanged. He heard only unintelligible whispers and wordless sighs. He heard the sound of flesh caressing flesh as the two women shared their pleasure. He wondered briefly what Jim Dandy was doing. He himself could see nothing, but he closed his eyes and his mind returned to the run to the oak and back when Courtney rode naked on his shoulders and pressed her hungry sex against the base of his neck. Her naked breasts brushed the back of his head as she hunched over. Her sweet breath bathed his ear. Rocket Man breathed deeply and sighed. He remembered Courtney’s scent – a compelling admixture of floral perfume, lotion and her own clean female essence spiced by female lust. He inhaled deeply and tried to find Courtney’s scent among the complex scents of the river and the forest. The women’s moans became more urgent now and Rocket Man thought he detected once again the subtle fragrance of female lust.

Rocket Man was still lost in his reveries when the women, sated with pleasure, stopped and dressed. Courtney pulled on her leathers, then her boots and finally adjusted her spurs. She and Emilia exchanged one last kiss before going to retrieve their mounts.

“Emilia, look at this!” Courtney called. Rocket Man opened his eyes. Courtney grasped Rocket Man’s erection in her gloved hand. Restrained as he was, Rocket Man could do nothing.

“Wow!” said Emilia. “Let me touch. That’s why you call him Rocket Man – right?”

Courtney smiled. Emilia’s hand was larger than Courtney’s, but even she had to stretch her long fingers to encompass Rocket Man’s girth. “He’s really a dirty and disgusting creature, isn’t he?” She wrinkled up her nose. “They only think about one thing.”

Courtney chuckled. “And they never do lose hope.”

“I think it’s so cruel. You should just geld him. I should geld Jim Dandy? A kindness, perhaps?”

Emilia rode Jim Dandy back to the stable. Courtney rode Rocket Man at her side. Rocket Man’s erection lasted for some time, to Courtney’s amusement, but eventually subsided when she went vigorously to the lash and spur for a great quarter mile sprint. Jim Dandy, carrying the larger Emilia was hard pressed to stay even at the end of a long day. Courtney’s smaller size finally came to her advantage.

Merry’s busy hands felt good on Rocket Man’s tired, sweat-streaked body. He closed his eyes but winced when she touched a bruise left by Courtney’s spurs.

“He did really good today,” Courtney’s voice. Rocket Man opened his eyes and pulled against his restraints. Courtney held little Harper’s hand. 

Courtney touched the corner of his mouth where he had drooled around his bit. She stroked the back of his neck and ran her slimy finger the full length of his spine to his tailbone. His skin was slippery with sweat.

Rocket Man sighed. Courtney laughed and slapped his buttock. “Take good care of him, Merry. He’s mine.”

“Say bye-bye to the nice pony, Harper,” Courtney urged her little daughter.

“Ride again?” little Harper asked. 

<


	7. Chapter 7

When Harper was six, she rode Rocket Man around the paddock herself. She was too young to be trusted with a crop or spurs. Daphne de Witter watched her granddaughter with pride. Harper was so tiny compared with the huge two-legged pony. 

Daphne took Rocket Man on the trails herself. She was an accomplished equestrienne and took Rocket Man to his limits. He answered promptly to her crop and spurs. When she returned, she mounted him on the grooming stand and helped Meredith attend to his grooming. She rested her hand on his sweaty muscular buttock and pronounced him an excellent mount. She patted him fondly. “I never liked your Brad,” she told her daughter later, “but I do like your Rocket Man. A bit and bridle do wonders for a man.” However, she sensed that Rocket Man may have lost a half-step compared to Emilia’s younger Jim Dandy but kept it to herself. 

Emilia had worked hard and long with her Jim Dandy. He had filled out well. She had finally had him gelded. He had that smooth look that she liked. Dr. Marcus had done a great job. He had the featureless groin of a Ken doll. His bladder emptied into his rectum and he eliminated from the single opening.

Emilia made a clicking sound and Jim Dandy approached the scramble course at a walk. He jumped forward with the encouragement of Emilia’s crop and crossed the starting line at an all -out run. He sprinted ten yards to the first eighteen-inch hurdle. He had done this so many times in practice. He timed his jump and cleared it easily without breaking stride. Emilia’s weight was nothing. She shifted her weight deftly and they ran as one. His confidence soared. He cleared the second and third hurdles cleanly. He circled the barrel, tore back, clearing all three hurdles, one after the other, and crossed the finish line at a gallop. 

“Whoa.” Emilia pulled back on the reins and brought him to a walk. “Good run!” she purred. 

Her time had been decent. She turned and looked at Courtney on her Rocket Man, now thirty-five years old. Let them beat that or even do as well.

They rode up to Red Lake again. The day was beautiful. They kept an easy pace and chatted. Emilia and Courtney swam. The ponies pulled at their restraints, fighting to see the women lying in the sun or cavorting in the lake.< /p> Courtney was in a hurry to return to the stable. She set a quick pace but by the time they returned, her poor Rocket Man could hardly keep up. Courtney knew that Emilia was holding back.

Something had to be done. The legs always go first, they say. If one can’t part with her possessions then they own her and not she them. She spoke with Patricia and Kristen. Courtney bought UFO, eighteen years old and freshly broken. He was a fine young two-legged pony. Rocket Man would now officially be Harper’s pony – a good solution to a difficult problem.

Harper was overjoyed. She had her very own pony. She rode with her friends, Abbie Thwaite and Madison McLeod. She rode with Kristen Cotter’s daughter, Mackenzie. Kristen or Meredith led them on the trails. Rocket Man was a very well-behaved pony and Harper gained skill as a rider. She needed help with his grooming though. 

Rocket Man was insanely jealous. He hated UFO. He was Courtney’s pony not this new boy. The stable hands were careful to keep them safely apart. Their competition earned many smiles and much concern in the stable. He and UFO fought in the paddock. Whips in hand, Kristen and Meredith had to pull them apart. Something need be done.

Harper rode her Rocket Man following Meredith on Twister. Abbie rode Lucky Star and Madison rode Mr. Green Jeans, both geldings. Mackenzie trailed on Jim Dandy. 

Rocket Man trotted and brooded. The pace was easy and Harper’s weight was nothing to him. He thought of his Courtney and her UFO. He should be carrying Courtney. He was Courtney's pony. She had promised him that he He would always be hers. He would be with her always. He carried Courtney’s brand. He liked cute little Harper but he didn’t want to belong to a seven year-old girl. Suddenly, he had had enough.

He just ran. 

Harper pulled back on his reins. Rocket Man bit down on his bit and ignored her. She just wasn’t strong enough to control the large male. He would show them. 

Harper hung on and gripped her crop. She was uncertain whether her crop would only make Rocket Man run faster. She looked back to the others for help.

Abbie and Madison watched their friend with fear in their eyes. 

Meredith ordered Abbie and Madison to wait. She spurred Twister and set off in pursuit. Mackenzie was ten and had just earned her spurs. Jim Dandy answered to her demand.

Rocket Man just ran and terrified Harper held on. He thought he could run forever and no one would catch him.

However, the younger ponies ran well. They were thoroughly trained and conditioned. Meredith went to her crop and Twister surged ahead. Mackenzie jabbed Jim Dandy with her spurs and he gave chase.

Rocket Man heard Harper screaming in terror and a hint of ambivalence weakened his resolve. He ran and felt the sweat dripping from his strong body. He ran and found the breath burning in his throat. He ran and felt his strength fading. 

Meredith and Mackenzie were gaining on him now. Jim Dandy ran at his side and Mackenzie reached out and grabbed his bridle. She pulled him forcefully to a stop. 

Harper was crying now. She was no longer afraid but Rocket Man had embarrassed her in front of her friends. 

Meredith and Mackenzie said little when they secured Rocket Man to the grooming stand. Meredith stood beside him and placed her hand on his shoulder. Her other hand held a whip. “You understand why we’re doing this,” she said with a hint of kindness. “You made us.”

Mackenzie landed the first twenty lashes. She was tentative at first but gained confidence. Harper followed with twenty more. She cried the entire time. Meredith followed with twenty lashes. Neither girl could hit as hard as Meredith.

Rocket Man pulled hopelessly against his restraints. He shuddered as each blow struck. He had endangered her daughter. What would Courtney think of him now? He wept, more from regrets than from pain. 

Harper’s friends’ mothers complained. Charlotte Thwaite suggested that Rocket Man be gelded. That might make his suffering less severe. Courtney was reluctant but went along. Several teeth were removed to allow his bit to sit more securely. The old boy recovered quickly as Dr. Marcus promised, and Rocket Man didn’t really seem to mind.


	8. Chapter 8

The stable thrived. The number of visitors increased. Mothers shared the hobby with their daughters. Mastering a large, powerful male would protect a girl from falling in love with the first boy to find her clitoris.

Patricia provided a bunkhouse and cabins. All the stalls were occupied. An intact male required his own stall but two gelding might be housed together. With all the novice riders, the geldings were kept busy. It seemed that Kristen and Meredith were always training a new pony. Increasingly, Mackenzie helped them. 

Harper was ten. Her skills had increased and she had learned an important lesson. A two-legged pony was trained., not tamed, even her Rocket Man. He was her animal, not her friend. Like all young girls, she relished her mastery of the powerful beast under her saddle. 

At first, she had a young girl’s reluctance to use her crop. She feared its use more than her mount feared its bite. Gradually, she learned that the crop was a valuable tool to communicate her will to her powerful pony. Leniency was no kindness. A correction too mildly delivered was too soon forgotten and need be repeated. 

With time and practice, her confidence grew. Her skills increased further. She took Rocket Man on the trails herself. She brooked no disobedience. She helped more with Rocket Man’s care. She helped Mackenzie groom the other ponies.

Rocket Man sensed the change when he carried Harper. Harper rode him round the track, working on his paces. He did as required but seethed with envy. He struggled to watch UFO carrying Courtney in the infield, though his blinders and check reins severely restricted his field of vision. 

UFO stood in the infield and saw three barrels configured in an isosceles triangle. Other ponies and their riders rounded the track. He saw Rocket Man carrying Harper and smiled around his bit. The stands were empty. He looked at the barrels again. He had little enthusiasm for anything new and unfamiliar. He pulled against his reins and bit down on his bit, hard. 

Emilia held the clipboard and would keep time. Her Jim Dandy knelt beside her. He had added muscle and filled out nicely.

Courtney sat in her saddle and studied the course. Two barrels, at the base, stood about 15 yards from the starting line and 30 yards apart. The third barrel at the apex was 35 yards from either flanking barrel and about 32 yards from the starting line. An experienced rider, she sensed her mount’s near panic and stroked him under the jaw. This was all new for UFO. Courtney tightened her grip on the reins and took a deep breath.

“Ready,” Emilia called. “Set.” She readied the stopwatch in her hand and lifted the whistle to her lips. 

“Go!” Courtney whispered to herself at the whistle’s shrill sound. Her knees tapped UFO’s flanks.

UFO started forward at a walk. Courtney guided him the right and brought him to an easy trot. His uncertainty was obvious. She dragged him sharply to the right and they circled the first barrel counter-clockwise. UFO ran between barrels. Courtney guided him to the top of the left-hand barrel and pulled him sharply to the left. They circled the left had barrel and ran to the top barrel. EFO rounded the barrel smartly and Courtney drove him back to the starting line.

“Time!” Emilia called and wrote something on her clipboard.

Courtney brought UFO to a walk and turned him back to the barrels. “Let’s do that again.” They worked around the barrels again, changing directions and speeds. UFO ran the course at a trot. After several more runs, Courtney let him feel her spurs and he ran the barrels at an all-out run. They did it once and again. He was not yet as quick as Rocket Man had been at his prime but she would get him there. Let Emilia and her Jim Dandy beat that.< /p>

Now they would try with the blinders closed.

Rocket Man ran and brooded. Courtney still greeted him on every visit to the stable and offered him a kind word. Sometimes, she brought him a treat. He wished desperately he were still carrying Courtney. He was Courtney’s pony. He carried her brand. She had promised him that she would keep him with her always. A biting touch from Harper’s crop brought him from his reverie and back to pace. 

Harper circled the track. She loved her Rocket Man but she really wanted an intact male of her own. Intact males were notoriously short tempered, lazy, and prone to violence. However, elite equestriennes relished the challenge and generally preferred intact males. Mackenzie had her Hurricane. 

Harper varied Rocket Man’s pace from jog to run and sprint. He seemed distracted and difficult. She knew he had lost a step or two from his prime. Rocket Man was as old has her mother. She had known him for as long as she could remember. She found something boring and borderline offensive in his affectionate gaze and in his eager obedience. Harper was old enough for her own intact male – a stallion. She felt the lazy old bugger slacking off and went to her crop again, perhaps with a bit more rigor than required.


	9. Chapter 9

Harper earned her spurs at twelve. Harper’s mother, Courtney and her grandmother Daphne were so proud. Harper wore them whenever she could and felt naked without them. Olivia, Emilia’s daughter, was so jealous but her time would come. 

Mackenzie now had her Hurricane, a young intact male and not a broken-down gelding. Harper asked and Mackenzie let her ride him. 

“Trained, not tamed, “ Mackenzie warned her friend. 

Harper stood no taller than his chest. He carried three times her weight. He looked down at her with blatant defiance. The tension was palpable. She looked up at him and swallowed any uncertainty. Confident of her mastery, she bound him to her will with her crop and spurs. She savored the struggle of wills and her ultimate victory. With permission, Harper had ridden each of the two-legged ponies in the stable and proved her mastery.

Olivia was even more jealous when Harper finally got Derecho. He was a strongly built pony, well-trained and well-conditioned. His pretty black mane was thick and full. He towered over Harper but any doubts about who commanded and who obeyed were quickly extinguished. He was her pony and he knew it. 

She had been eager to brand him. Everyone would know that he was her pony. Her mother stubbornly insisted that she wait.

Usually Meredith or Mackenzie helped her with his grooming. Harper remembered the first time she had groomed him herself. She secured his nose ring to the upright and his ankles to the stays in the floor. She freed his left wrist from his harness. Gripping it in both her hands, she lifted it to the crosspiece. Suddenly, he ripped his muscular arm from her grasp and flailed it around wildly. He bellowed his defiance. 

Harper leapt out of the way. The sturdy grooming frame groaned but held. Secured by his nose and ankles, Derecho could not win free. 

Harper returned with the whip. She snorted to remember her past ambivalence. She felt no ambivalence now. He was her pony and he would know it. All his fault. Make him think he’s going to die, Kristen had told her. She whipped him and he screamed around his bit and pulled against his restraints. The beating continued and the screams became groans and whimpers. Her arm was ached but she went on. His strong body cringed at the touch of her whip. Finally, he lifted his arm to the crosspiece himself.

“Better,” Harper allowed and lashed him ten times more before she secured his left wrist to the crosspiece. She secured his right wrist and attended to his grooming. She ran her finger down his sweat-sticky skin from the base of his neck to his tailbone as she had seen her mother do with her ponies. He grimaced when she touched a fresh wound left by her whip and she smiled. “Derecho, sweetie, you were a very naughty pony!” The next morning, she found a blister on her whip hand. 

His blinders closed; Derecho could see nothing. Harper guided him to the starting line of the keyhole course. A jab of her spurs brought him to an all-out run. He dashed up the narrow chute, about thirty yards in length. Harper let him feel her crop again – no more than a love-tap. “Ready,” she whispered hoarsely. “Set. Turn!” She yanked hard on his reins and turned him around. He almost fell. He stumbled but kept his feet. Derecho sprinted back down the narrow chute. Harper applied her crop liberally; his speed was exhilarating. Courtney sat in UFO’s saddle and watched her daughter with pride. 

Finally, Courtney allowed her daughter to brand her new pony. Harper touched the red-hot iron to his skin and knew it was worth the wait. 

Courtney surveyed the steeple chase course – two miles with 28 barriers and 7 water jumps. The first water jump lay a furlong ahead, followed by 4 barriers over the next furlong and then the second water jump a furlong further. Two miles.

She stroked UFO’s cheek. He always relished her touch. “You can do this, boy,” she encouraged him. 

He could do this. He was a strong mount, expertly conditioned and expertly trained, and in his prime. She wondered briefly if he had ever thought of his life before the stable. When he was a little boy, had he dreamed of being a male police officer or a male fire fighter? A footballer? Had he dreamed of being a male stockjill or even the prime minister. 

She chuckled. So much had changed! Yes, once upon a time a male - man - might aspire to be prime minister. Now, he might only aspire to win a place in the stable at the Lodge in Canberra and the opportunity to pull the prime minister’s carriage. 

Well, today UFO was her pony. His powerful body carried her mark. He was twenty-four. He had many good years left in him and she would take good care of him. She sat in his saddle and held his reins.

Once, she had hoped to run the steeplechase with her Rocket Man. That hope lay buried in the past. She felt a pang of regret.

Her spurs jabbed his flanks and UFO surged forward powerfully.


	10. Chapter 10

When Harper was fifteen, she spent the summer at the stable. She would ride her Derecho every day and help Meredith and Mackenzie break Whirlwind for Olivia. Olivia was growing up too. 

Courtney had the occasion to visit Patricia’s office. Patricia was sixty-six. A healthy and vigorous sixty-six. Kristen, Meredith, and Mackenzie did most of the work around the stable but Patricia still loved to ride. Kristen stood beside her.

Courtney couldn’t remember the last time she had been in Patricia’s office. The heavy wooden desk was neat and orderly as she might have guessed. Her eye was drawn to a wall of pictures – framed photos of the ponies from Patricia’s stable. Two pictures were at the top – yes – Trojan and Comet – yes. A curious looking riding crop hung next to each picture. The crop between Trojan and Comet featured two strands of leather braided together. She saw Tornado, Lightning, Storm and there was Rocket Man in the second row. Thunder, Cyclone, and stupid Brad were in the third row. Thunder’s mouth was half open and his stupid tongue protruded. He had never come to accept his bit. They had pierced his tongue and slipped it to the chin strap of his bridle. Poor Brad hadn’t proved any better a pony than he had a husband.

Courtney couldn’t help herself. She touched Rocket Man’s picture. She felt a tear in the corner of her eye. “Miss you, Rocket Man. You were a sweetie.” You always remember your first. Their legs always go first and a pony runs on his legs. Luckily, her UFO was twenty-seven and still had many good years under saddle.

She studied the crop next to Rocket Man’s photo. The crop had eight inches of handle and about sixteen inches of thong. 

“That one’s yours,” Patricia said kindly. 

Takes a lot of stretching, Kristen explained, but it can be done. Much easier to work with a bull’s pizzle. The women laughed. Men have such a high opinion of themselves. 

Silently, she cursed her sentimentality – the female vice – and turned to reach into her leather handbag for her car keys. She ran her finger over the well-healed brand that marked the soft leather. Rocket Man had been the first pony to carry her mark. Emilia had a matching leather handbag, just like hers without the brand. Emilia had been fond of Rocket Man too. 

She reached inside and retrieved her small leather coin purse. She chuckled to think that what Rocket Man had kept inside was even more precious to him than her car keys and loose change. Or at least until Dr. Marcus had taken them. 

See, Rocket Man, you’ll always be with me and you’’ll always be the same. You can just watch me become a decrepit old hag.

Wow, am I old fashioned! The car doesn’t need a need a key. She left the purse on the seat beside her and started her car.

The End


End file.
